


The Final Stakeout

by steamforge



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Fanart, Film Noir, Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamforge/pseuds/steamforge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus Vakarian follows a lead and stakes out a target.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

> For KB who also drew the artwork. And for HM who inspires me.

Garrus Varkarian missed a good stakeout. Tracking a perp to a hideout and waiting for them to arrive may seem boring to most, but for Garrus, this was his art. Off-hours from working at C-Sec were spent walking the Citadel’s wards to watch how light played upon it’s construction the way an artist would study their subject. 

All Garrus needed for a good stakeout was a high vantage point, a Mantis sniper rifle with optional 3x directional zoom and pack of chewing resin, mint flavored. C-Sec agents were instructed to find a comfortable place to set up, but not Garrus, he prefered uncomfortable. If he was uncomfortable, he couldn’t be distracted by sleep. Once, in the academy on Palaven, he perched on a 1 meter outcropping of the mess hall in order to tag the head boy during the clan games. The look on the head boy’s face was priceless as target gel ran down.

Garrus’ patience was legendary. While it cost him partial vision in his eye, his last stand as Archangel on Omega was his proudest moment in patience. Mercenary groups assaulted his base of operations for days. Waiting was his art and his canvas was quadrant B of the lower industrial section. With broad strokes of weapon fire, he painted his surroundings until a singular entrance funneled his targets to their demise. By the time Commander Shepard had found him, he had created his greatest work of art.

Archangel’s days are passed and saving the galaxy with Shepard had provided little chance for a good stakeout. Having returned to the Citadel, however, Garrus had found a new quarry. This was to be his final stakeout: the last one before Shepard faced the Reapers.

Rain fell upon Garrus’ face. It was a warm rain that wasn’t strong enough to warrant protection but distracting enough for most beings to head for cover. To a new visitor of the Citadel, the appearance of rain would be met with wonder at how weather could evolve on a space station. To the citizens of the Citadel, weather wasn’t unheard of. High altitude force fields held the atmosphere to the arms of the station. Occasionally, in the lower wards, moisture in the air would collect near the fringe of the force fields and form light weather. The streets were slick and gave off a damp smell. Garrus pulled his black overcoat just a bit tighter around his neck. Rain wouldn’t keep him from his target.

It was the sweet smell of broth that caused Garrus to be distracted for only a moment. A Turian restaurant had opened in this part of Zakaran Ward. The smell of the broth reminded him of home. “Broth on a rainy day would be good about now”, he thought. Movement from the cheap hotel across the street caught his good eye. “Mustn’t get distracted”, he said in a hushed tone.

Across the way was a notoriously sleazy hotel, known for it’s questionable clientele, no questions asked policy and exquisite continental breakfast. Or so that last part states in the hotel’s brochure. Eight floors, a hundred and twenty rooms and fifty percent occupancy is what the hotel provided in the way of a canvas for Garrus.

No longer in C-Sec, Garrus wasn’t allowed to bring his rifle into the Citadel. He had to rely on a pair of macrobinoculars he found in Vega’s locker. There was some iconography of some sporting Asari team on the side which Garrus didn’t quite know or care about. What mattered is that Vega spent a lot of credits on a high powered piece of equipment that Garrus could use more than Vega right now.

From his vantage point, Garrus could see most of the floors of the hotel. On the second floor, there was a stim deal happening: low level trash, not his concern. Fourth floor had a guest that hadn’t left in 3 days: possibly dead. Fifth floor had 2 affairs: an Asari with a Human and Human with a Drell. Sixth floor was rented out to an Elcor dignitary who didn’t want to be seen in the lower ward. It was the Seventh floor which Garrus was most concerned with. His target was set up a room and he couldn’t quite see into it. He had to wait. Waiting is what he did best.

Garrus heard the footsteps behind him before he could see who it was, but he knew. “Shepard”. A cup of something hot was placed beside him. It smelled awful and at the same time, delicious.

“I can never sneak up on you,” Shepard lamented.

“And you never will.” Garrus replied. “What’s this?”

“Work Juice,” Shepard stated matter-of-factly. Garrus looked up from the binoculars and at the cup. “It’s rocket fuel. Cuppa Joe. You know...coffee?” Garrus took a sip. “Since this is a stakeout, I figured I should bring some coffee and the requisite amount of donuts: two.” Shepard was a good man who meant well but this isn’t how Garrus does things. Maybe he’d have just one more sip of coffee before telling Shepard how it’s done.

Shepard crouched low next to Garrus. “Nice binoculars,” he quipped. Garrus looked at Shepard in a way to tell him to quiet down. “Sorry, this is my first stakeout. Who are we staking out?”

“No kidding.” Garrus handed the binocular to Shepard. “Tell me what you see.”

Taking a moment to reply, Shepard studied the hotel. “I see a shady Vorcha leaving the second floor.”

Garrus cracked, what Shepard has come to recognize as, a smile. “That’s redundant Shepard. All Vorcha are shady, but that shady Vorcha just bought a week’s worth of stims.” He can see Shepard squirm, wanting to be the hero and stop the Vorcha. “We have bigger fries to fish Shepard.”

Now it was Shepard’s turn to smile. “That’s - we have bigger FISH to FRY. But you got close that time.”

“I can throw you over this balcony, Shepard.” Garrus threatened. “They’re going to have to call your girlfriend, Miranda, to patch you up again.” Shepard got quiet and then slapped Garrus on the back before laughing. His infectious laugh caught Garrus by surprise who also began laughing. This was no way to stake out a place.

Shepard couldn’t sit still and left. Garrus remained at his post, watching. Several more cups of “work juice” were brought up by Shepard. “Can I offer you a stick of chewing resin, Shepard?” 

“Is this gum,” asked Shepard.

“Chewing resin,” explained Garrus.

Shepard took the chewing resin. “This is gum. We humans call it gum.”

“We, Turians, invented it before you crawled out of your oceans. And it comes in wintergreen...wait”

“What is it, Garrus?”

“Movement.”

Garrus handed the binoculars over to Shepard. “There” he instructed, pointing at the seventh floor. A Hanar had left the hotel room. This Hanar was pinkish in color and glided down the walkway and down to the street. “Come on, Sheppard, let’s go.”

Racing to the steps, Shepard knocked over a cup while Garrus had already jumped a few steps down. The partners move in unison, having fought several moving battles together before. Saving the Council on the Citadel when Saren attacked and later on the Collector ship honed their skills as teammates. They were down in the street and darting through the crowded street to follow the Hanar.

Catching up to the Hanar, Garrus and Shepard flanked it from two side. “Where do you think you’re going,” Garrus demanded.

Garrus hadn’t realized it until then that they had stopped outside the Turian restaurant. The smell of broth was strong and played havoc with Garrus’ senses. He had to focus.

“This one is not getting paid enough you demented solids.” The Hanar replied, looking back at the hotel.

Out of the hotel room on the seventh floor where the Hanar left, Shepard saw a familiar face. “Specialist Traynor?” Garrus starts laughing as the Hanar slips passed.

“You sent a Hanar to Traynor?”

“Yeah, and who knew that she’s a freak.” Garrus continued laughing.

“You are one sick Turian”

“Who’s buying broth,” Garrus said, putting his arm around Shepard and leading him into the restaurant.


End file.
